Fractured
by thatswhyyyoudont
Summary: Izaya x Shizuo slash. Two years after Izaya leaves Ikebukuro, survival instinct kick in and pull him, of all places, right back where he started.
1. Chapter 1

Izaya's finishes earlier than he expected. Shiku's only been gone a few hours. He will be pleased.

For a moment, Izaya just sits there. It's not often he can enjoy such freedom.

He lowers his feet with caution and stands. The wheelchair is in the corner, but he never uses it in the apartment. Shiku says not to feel ashamed if he does feel the need to use it, but still.

He goes over to the window. Walking doesn't cause him much pain now. Looks out onto the street. He hasn't been outside in two years.

Something dulled but insistent in the back of his brain pulls him away, into the bedroom. He takes his wallet out of the drawer. He has to brush the dust off it. To his surprise, it all seems intact, not one note touched. Not that Shiku needed his money.

For a moment he just stands there. He can feel his own heart. He holds his wallet like a child with a toy.

A voice comes out of the mess that is his head, and for once it's clear enough to make sense.

 _If you can walk as far as the station, you have to get out of here._

He shakes his head as if someone has actually spoken. _Get out of here?_ Where would he go? More importantly, he hadn't set a foot outside the apartment since he had moved in. His legs couldn't take the strain. They had told him so. His legs would give out, and he would never make it to the station. The wheelchair, somehow, isn't an option.

Even as he's thinking this, the invisible leash pulls him out into the hall. His hands are shaking as he slides his arms through the coat – it's a little big on him now - as he pulls on his shoes. He catches his reflection in the hall mirror, faded bruising, but he doesn't look long. If he does, he knows he'll be lost.

 _You have to get out of here._

He hovers at the front door. Would he really dare? Shiku isn't due back for hours, isn't likely to call, but a second voice is screaming in his head that he'll collapse before he even makes it halfway, he'll come back in agony. That he should just sit down and take a minute, that he should put the wallet back and-

 _No._

Something pulls him on, on out the door to the corridor, down the elevator into the foyer. All the way out into the street. His legs feel fine. He's walking along the street like everybody else, like it's the most normal thing in the world. He puts his hood up.

He's terrified. He's convinced he'll run into Shiku, or one of Shiku's associates, at any moment, and what will he say? _Just popping out for some air?_ If that happens he may as well throw himself in front of the nearest truck.

He shakes his head to clear it. He walks on. Avoids the eye of everyone he passes, convinced he must stand out, that he must give off a scent.

He's so focussed on this, on putting one leg in front of the other, that he doesn't notice he's at the station until his shoes touch the tiles. Had it always been this close?

He stops and stares. The crowds, the wall clock, the departures board, the ticket machines, the stores. His knees buckle. People edge around him politely when he doesn't move.

Then that helpful leash snaps him forward, the last few steps to the ticket machines. He buys a single ticket to Ikebukuro in cash. His hands fumble, and it takes him a while. He tends to be clumsy now, arms almost deformed looking inside his coat, courtesy of Shizuo, but he is used to it. He can't think about Shizuo now.

He has twenty minutes. He goes to the platform. It isn't busy, being a weekday afternoon. He doesn't have to sit next to anybody. He keeps the hood up anyway.

His heart jumps as the train begins to pull away, but not in a good way. He has no plan. Not much money; his bank card will be expired, the accounts likely drained. No power. No allies.

Ikebukuro.

He breathes in. It is his turf, not Shiku's. He knows Ikebukuro. He has an advantage there, and Shiku will tread carefully if, _when_ , he comes. He avoids Ikebukuro like the plague. Izaya just needs to think.

The most obvious choice is his family. But he doesn't want to risk it, own turf or no. And he cannot let his family see the state he's in. His family will know right away that something very bad has happened to him, even before they see his arms or the rest of his bruises.

Shinra. He always goes to Shinra. Shinra will not turn him away, even now.

But, he has not seen Shinra in years. Shinra could have moved. He could be away. He could-

 _Stop_ , he orders. He's exhausted. He decides he will find a payphone as soon as he gets to Ikebukuro. He'll call Shinra. If Shinra is unavailable, he will call Simon, or Kadota, or even Masaomi or Mikado. He will deal with each problem as he comes to it, not before.

Thinking this, Izaya tucks himself into his hood and closes his eyes.

* * *

Ikebukuro scares him. It is far louder than Kanto's station, brighter, wider, more bustling, familiar, bright, overwhelming. He stumbles along with the crowd and lets the invisible leash pull him to the payphone.

He doesn't even have to think about the numbers before he punches them in, he's dialled Shinra so many times over the years. Good old Shinra. Who wouldn't, _couldn't_ , let him down now.

The doctor answers after the first few rings.

"Hello?"

"Shinra." Izaya's head swims with his voice. It's like coming back from the dead. "It's Izaya."

There's a pause of disbelief on the other end. Then Shinra's laughing.

"Izaya! It's been so long, I should be mad at you. How are you?"

Izaya chokes up at his tone, at the warmth in it. "I'm- " he swallows. "I'm sorry, Shinra, I need your help."

"What?" He goes into doctor mode just like that. "Where are you?"

"I'm in Ikebukuro Central station."

"Oh, shit." There's a little pause. Izaya hears him scurrying around. "I'm going to – no, I'll send Celty, it'll be faster. Are you all right to ride with her? How badly hurt are you?"

"Shinra," he blurts. He is shaking. "I don't have any money."

Shinra barely skips a beat. "That's OK."

"No, I mean I – I don't know if I have any money at all."

"Izaya." Shinra's tone hasn't changed. "Let's just get you here, OK? I'm sending Celty right now. Go wait by the Salad Bar, where it's quiet."

Izaya slumps against the phonebox with relief. "Tell her she doesn't have to hurry," he mumbles. "I'm all right."

"Sure," he says, not sounding at all convinced. "Sit tight, OK? I'll see you soon."


	2. Chapter 2

He tucks himself into a corner where Shinra told him to wait, hooded, hands pocketed. The magnitude of what he's done still hasn't sunk in. He feels like a little kid playing a game, like Masaomi or Mikado.

He realises he's come too far to go back. Shiki will be finding he's missing now. Izaya doesn't want to think about what else he will be doing. He's so taken up with this, he doesn't even worry about being spotted.

It's then that he notices a pair of unmoving leather boots planted, follows them up to the body. The helmet. Celty just stands there looking at him. After a moment, she holds out her phone.

 _Are you all right?_

He nods. He can't speak. She seems to understand. Her shadows wrap into a helmet around his head, and she takes him to the bike.

* * *

"Oh, shit." The normally poker-faced doctor grimaces as he eases Izaya's sleeves up. "Who set your arms, Izaya? This is bad. They've really, really botched it."

"I don't know."

He doesn't care. He's used to his arms now.

"What about my _legs_ , Shinra?"

"What about them?"

Shinra doesn't even look up from the monstrosity of Izaya's arms, like a repulsed kid at his first dissection.

"My legs," Izaya says impatiently. "You know, my main injuries from Shizuo?"

Shinra frowns up at him. "Er, your _arms_ were your main injuries from Shizuo, Izaya. But sure, I can take a look."

He gets on the floor and rolls up Izaya's jeans. He pats him down, presses his calf, squeezes, rotates his ankle, bends his knee, then repeats the procedure on the other leg. None of it hurts. His muscles just feel a little tired, a little weak.

"Stand up," Shinra finally commands. He makes Izaya walk around while he stays on the floor watching him.

"Your legs hurt?"

"Well, yes."

"Whereabouts?"

"All of them. All over."

"What kind of pain? Dull, sharp, throbbing, aching?"

"Yes."

"Yes to which?"

Izaya stares at him. "I don't know. All of them. Dull."

"And how often is the pain? Constant, frequent, when under strain?"

He shakes his head. "What is this, a test? My legs are permanently damaged, Shinra. They always hurt."

Shinra looks at him.

"Do they hurt right now?"

Izaya opens his mouth to answer him. Stops himself as he realises.

Shinra eases himself up on the couch and gestures for Izaya to sit.

"There's nothing wrong with your legs, Izaya."

Izaya stares at him. His heart's going wild. "But I'm disabled," he says. "I - I have a wheelchair."

Shinra looks nonplussed.

"Who said you're disabled?"

"I don't know," he says, and he really doesn't. "Doctors."

"What kind of doctors? Hospital doctors, or doctors like me?"

Izaya doesn't answer. He doesn't have to.

Shinra sighs.

"You know you have to be really careful with that, especially when it's serious," he says gently. He gives Izaya's legs a few more prods. "How did you get here? How did you get to the train station?"

"I walked."

"How far? How long did it take?"

Izaya shakes his head.

"Could you see the station from your house?"

"No."

Shinra smiles at him and withdraws his hand. "There's nothing wrong with your legs," he repeats. "They healed perfectly. Probably tough from all the running. They're only weak now from lack of use. It's your arms I'm really, really worried about."

Izaya frowns. He still doesn't understand.

"But it was my legs that took the brunt of it when Shizuo hit me. I couldn't walk."

Shinra is shaking his head.

"No, no, your arms took the brunt of it, Izaya. He hit you, and you could still walk. People saw it. You blocked him with your _arms_."

Izaya is staring at him.

Shinra cocks his head.

"You don't remember?"

"I…"

He thinks about it. He doesn't know what he remembers. He was _sure_ he couldn't walk. Didn't they – tell him that? Then he realises. Of course they did.

Shinra adjusts his glasses.

"Where you on any painkillers or other prescription drugs after it happened?"

"Yes." This he remembers. "A lot." And for a long time.

"What kind?"

"I don't know. Painkillers. I've never had to take them before, I don't know the brands."

Shinra doesn't say anything further.

Izaya stares at his legs for a long time. He can't bring himself to look at his arms.

"I have been so fucking stupid."

Shinra offers him a smile.

"Well, at least you woke up eventually."

* * *

Izaya turns it all over in his head that night in Shinra's guest room.

He's realising the level of shit he'd been in. How lucky he was. He always knew it was bad, as bad as things could get, but…how had he let it go on? Because he had no alternative, because he couldn't think straight?

He remembers the first time Shiki hit him, for no reason at all, the screaming pain that had gone up his arms and stayed there for hours. The urgency in his head going from a quiet warning to a blaring siren – _you have to get out, you have to go,_ now – and, what had he done, he had gone back to sleep. He had taken painkillers and gone to bed and stayed, slept, for _another 18 months,_ ignoring that he knew something was wrong.

Thank God for the leash that pulled him. Thank God for whatever thing inside him that had risen up and recognised that to have stayed would have been to have died, or worse.

His arms have to be re-broken, reset, all over again. Surgery, followed by weeks of plaster and pain. Physiotherapy. A shrink, if Shinra's threats are to be taken seriously.

His arms. He can have them operated on one at a time, for better mobility, or both together, to get all the pain over with at once. Shinra tells him to think on it.

He and Celty bring him something to eat. They tell him to stay as long as he wants. They won't tell anyone he's here. They haven't heard from Shiki for years, anyway.

He feels the bones in his arms and he doesn't sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When he gets home, Shizuo kicks his shoes off automatically, wincing when it hurts. He's pissed. It's been weeks since he kicked through that wall, and his leg's still killing him.

He'd been putting it off, but now he's thinking he really has to call Shinra. What's one more bill on top of all the others?

Without Izaya, he has nothing to take his rage out on. He has had to resort to inanimate objects. But, with Izaya no longer causing problems for him, he reckons it balances out.

He throws on a pizza and switches on the TV, calls his school friend.

"Hey," he says when the doctor picks up. He watches the news as he talks, rubbing his leg absently. "You free sometime tomorrow night? I busted my leg the other week and it's just not getting better on its own."

"Ah, Shizuo, my most loyal customer," the doctor chuckles. "Perhaps. What time?"

"Well, Tom and I finish up near yours around 8."

"Oh," Shinra says in a different tone. There's an awkward pause. "I'm afraid you can't come _here_."

"Huh?" Shizuo tries to remember when he was last there, if he broke something. "I thought you only came out in emergencies, at extra expense?"

"Oh, I can come to you just this once. No extra cost."

There's something off about the way he says this.

"But isn't there more stuff at your place?"

"Oh, I'm sure none of that will be necessary. It's probably just a sprain."

Shizuo's not convinced.

"Is everything all right there?"

"Of course!"

Shinra is a terrible liar. Shizuo waits him out.

Shinra sighs and gives up. "Shizuo," he says. "Can I ask you, as a friend, to not get mad when I tell you what I'm about to tell you."

"OK." He mutes the TV. "What's up?"

"I mean, as a favour, as a friend to me and to Celty- "

"Yeah, yeah, I said it's fine. You know I've got better at that kind of thing since Izaya left."

He hears Shinra breathe in at that.

"Izaya's _here_ , Shizuo." Shizuo hears him gulp. "Don't get mad. Believe me when I say it's a very necessary situation."

Shizuo hardly hears him. His vision's turning red.

He forces himself to breathe.

"Fine," he says. He surprises even himself at how calm he sounds. The room clouds back into view. "I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later."

"Thank you." Shinra's voice drops with relief. "I, uh, knew you'd understand."

"Yeah." Shizuo's mind is whirring, still trying to take it in. "What's up with him?"

Shinra hesitates.

"It's his arms."

"Oh." Just like that the guilt is back, flooding his gut. He won't sleep tonight. "Should I come the day after?"

"Um, Izaya's actually _staying_ here, Shizuo. He's been here for quite a while. Necessary, like I said. He hasn't done anything, though. He hasn't even been out."

Shizuo frowns. This is unsettling. "Can't he go out for like an hour for me to come?"

"Uh, not really."

"OK..." This is too weird. He thinks about it. "Well, why should we tiptoe round each other? I'm fine seeing the flea so long as he doesn't bother me."

"Oh, he won't." Shinra still sounds uncertain. "It's just that he's a bit…"

"A bit what?" Shizuo prompts, when Shinra doesn't finish.

"Oh…don't worry about it." He resumes his usual tone. "If you're sure it's fine, come tomorrow by all means. Let me see if I can fit you in."

* * *

There's no sign of Izaya in Shinra's apartment, unless he's hiding in the guest room. No Celty, either.

Shinra's just got home himself, and he's flustered, rushing, chatting away. He doesn't mention Izaya at all. Shizuo thinks of what he said – Izaya's arms, necessary situation, that he couldn't go out – and wonders if Izaya is bedbound. The thought makes him uneasy. He automatically feels in his pocket for his lighter.

"I'm running a little late," Shinra tells him apologetically. "Let me make one phone call and then we're set, OK?"

"Sure."

He takes his cigarettes out to the balcony.

He yelps, nearly drops them when he sees Izaya.

The informant's frozen in a corner of the balcony floor, knees up, watching Shizuo like a snake. His left arm's bound in cast, his right rather awkwardly holding a cigarette. His eyes are red, like he hasn't slept, but he otherwise looks exactly the same.

In old circumstances, he would have laughed at the yelp. Instead, they just stare at each other like animals.

Shizuo lets out the breath he's been holding and straightens.

"Izaya."

Izaya's head moves a touch.

"Shizuo."

He sounds the same, too. Shizuo's eyes fall to the cigarette.

"Smoking now?"

"I picked up the habit."

Shizuo says nothing. He tears his eyes away. He leans his weight against the balcony – he's not sitting on the floor with the flea – and takes out his own cigarettes.

Izaya looks back out, already losing interest. His cigarette burns untouched. He barely inhales, barely brings it to his lips at all, as if it is just for effect.

Shizuo watches him without looking like he's watching. Izaya doesn't look his way again once. There's something off about him. Shizuo can't put his finger on it. His shirt's a little big and he looks like he hasn't slept, but otherwise he physically looks the same. It's the way he's staring, the way he's not saying anything. Shizuo wonders if Shinra's got him on something, Valium, or something stronger.

Izaya has the ash tray, so he has to dab his ash over the edge. It is the most unpleasant cigarette, and the most unpleasant sunset, of Shizuo's life.

They're just getting used to each other when Shinra comes crashing through the doors.

"Oh," he says, bemused, as they stare at him blankly. "I thought you guys had, I don't know, killed each other." He shakes his head. "You ready, Shizuo?"

"Sure."

He smokes down the last of his cigarette. There is more than half of Izaya's left.

Shinra is smiling. "Great, I'll make some tea."

"I made some," Izaya calls without turning round. His voice is flat.

"Thanks, 'Zaya. Did you speak to the bank again?"

"Yes."

"And?"

He still doesn't turn his head.

"They said it'd be fine."

"That's great!" Shinra crows. "I told you so. Come on, Shizuo."

Shinra takes a perplexed Shizuo by the arm and pulls him through the door.

Shizuo raises his eyebrows once they're alone.

Shinra just shakes his head.

Weird. The whole thing is just really, really weird.

"He doesn't seem that bad," Shizuo offers.

Shinra doesn't meet his eye. His jaw tightens.

"You should have seen him when he arrived."

* * *

Izaya's in the same spot a week later, like some kind of strange pet, like he hasn't moved. He holds a cigarette in his good hand, and rests the cast around his knees. He looks completely blank, indifferent, to seeing Shizuo again.

Shizuo looks down at him with distaste as he lights up.

"Still here?"

"I could ask you the same question." Izaya casts a contemptuous eye over Shizuo's leg, where the bandages bulk out of his trousers. "What are you doing, beating up elephants?"

"Piss off."

He stays on his end of the balcony and settles down to smoke, to ignore Izaya completely.

"Can I ask you something weird and stupid?"

Shizuo gives a start. The change in tone makes him uneasy. "I guess."

"When we fought – I don't remember it too clearly – it was my legs, right, that got hurt?"

He doesn't look like he's winding Shizuo up. He looks completely serious.

"Uh, I guess you hurt your legs," Shizuo says carefully. He hates talking about this. "You were limping. But it was your arms that really got it."

"My arms," he repeats. He looks puzzled.

"Yeah." Shizuo wonders again about Valium, or if Izaya has a concussion. "I punched you and you blocked it with your arms."

He does that staring off thing again, and it is creepier than any of his smirks. It's like he's had a lobotomy. "Funny," he says, narrow eyed. "I could have sworn it was my legs."

Shizuo says nothing.

They smoke in silence for some time.

Well. Shizuo smokes. Izaya holds the cigarette and stares, occasionally takes in a little smoke

Shizuo looks over several times until he can't stand it any more. "You're not even smoking. You're just holding the damn thing."

Izaya's head snaps up and his eyes flash back to life.

"I'm sorry, is there an etiquette for smoking now?"

"It's just that you're wasting the damn things."

"Oh how awful, I'm letting all the potential diseases float away. Remind me to save you the rest when I get bored of them."

"Fuck you."

They turn away from each other in silence.

Izaya, at least, is less disturbing to look at now. He's less catatonic when he's pissed.


	4. Chapter 4

Seeing Shizuo's calf's still not steady when taking his weight, Shinra does not take Shizuo's bandages off, but tells him to keep them on an extra week and come back. Shizuo is not pleased. He does not want another awkward smoke with Izaya. Maybe he'll just hold out this time and smoke afterwards. It'll be a sweet reward. Maybe Shinra will hurry the hell up for once.

But when he gets to Shinra's place, it is Izaya who answers the door.

He looks at Shizuo with distaste.

"Shinra's running late," he tells him. He steps back to let Shizuo inside.

"How late?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, 20 minutes. Tea?"

"No, I'm good."

Forgetting his resolution, he takes his cigarettes out onto the balcony. He figures he deserves it. Izaya thankfully doesn't join him. He's typing on Shinra's laptop on the sofa. Shizuo hears him turn on the news.

He enjoys a long, solitary cigarette, longer than 20 minutes, until it starts to get cold. He goes back inside and pointedly raises his eyebrows at Izaya.

"Don't look at me," he says, still typing. "Why don't you call him?"

"Er, could you? My phone's dead."

Izaya sighs like it's the biggest inconvenience in the world.

Shizuo hears Shinra talking before Izaya even says anything.

"Oh," Izaya says now. He flicks his eyes at Shizuo. "Yeah, he's here."

He hands the phone over.

"Shizuo." Shinra is a little out of breath. "I'm so sorry, but I've just been called back to my appointment. It's kind of urgent. Do you mind waiting another hour?"

"An hour?" he repeats. He sees Izaya flinch. "Maybe I should just come back tomorrow."

"No can do, I'm swamped tomorrow. This whole week's really bad. Just wait an hour so I can cross one more thing off my list? I'll do you a discount."

This sways him. He already gets mate-rates off Shinra, but his injury bills all add up.

"Fine."

"Thank you." Shinra's voice sinks with relief. "Make yourself at home, OK? Or, you know, ask Izaya. He's all right."

Shizuo grunts.

"Celty'll be home soon anyway. See you."

Shizuo sighs when he hangs up. He turns to the TV Izaya so thoughtfully turned on for him. Izaya takes back his phone without comment. He works on whatever it is he's doing, typing impaired by the one arm in cast, occasionally biting his lip in concentration. He doesn't acknowledge Shizuo again.

Shizuo watches the news. He gets the remote and changes channel, turns to a movie he can't get into. Fidgets. Checks his watch. Barely 10 minutes have passed.

He casts a grudging eye over Izaya.

"What's up with you, anyway?"

Izaya holds up his cast arm for Shizuo's inspection without looking up, seemingly without breaking concentration.

"That it? I thought you couldn't leave the house?"

"I leave the house." Izaya does look up now, annoyed. "What's up with _you_?"

"Sprained my leg."

Izaya doesn't ask for details. He doesn't even smirk. His eyes wander to something on the TV for a moment, but they are vague, unfocussed. He goes back to the laptop like his life depends on it.

Shizuo leaves him to it.

For about five minutes.

"You too good to talk to me now, flea?" Izaya jumps like he'd forgotten he's there. "Somebody neuter you or what?"

Izaya flinches, and Shizuo feels an automatic little twinge of guilt. He knows he shouldn't feel bad about anything he says to Izaya, but he can't help it; he doesn't have it in to get at people, not really get at them.

"I mean," he amends, if grudgingly. "Where've you been?" He amends.

"Kanto." Izaya frowns and doesn't elaborate. He is clearly not in the mood for small talk. His concentration appears to have broken however, as he casts Shizuo a considering look. "Want to have a drink?"

Shizuo meets his eye in surprise.

Izaya's eyebrows are raised a touch.

It will certainly make the next hour less torturous.

"Why not."

* * *

It is strong, pleasant, and it makes the air instantly more breathable. Izaya leaves the bottle between them on the coffee table.

"You keep looking at me."

Izaya doesn't look at _him_ as he says this, but he is as accurate as ever. Shizuo hates him.

"Sorry, your highness." Shizuo rolls his eyes, looking away. He shifts, lowers his voice. "I heard you were disabled."

Izaya doesn't smile.

"So did I."

Shizuo gives him a strange look.

"So, what happened?" he asks, when Izaya doesn't elaborate.

"What?" Izaya's head snaps up. His eyes grow wide, almost panicked.

"You know. That fight we had." He takes another drink. It helps. He really doesn't like talking about this, but he needs to know. "I didn't go near you that night. What made you go all sociopathic?"

Izaya frowns and looks away.

"I had to," he says eventually. "We were getting worse as we got older, you know we were. We weren't just kids in the playground anymore. We both had some really close calls. And you can't say it was all me; there were plenty of times were you came to my house just because you had a bad day. One of us was going to go too far sooner or later and, let's face it, with your temper, it was likely to be you. And with your strength, you had the advantage. One slip on my side, one moment of carelessness, and I'd be done for. So," he takes another drink himself. He hasn't looked at Shizuo once. "I did the smart thing."

Shizuo growls under his breath as he takes this in.

"That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

But as he thinks about it, he can see Izaya's point.

"Exactly," Izaya says, seeing his face. "It was going to happen anyway. I just wanted to have the upper hand when it did. Besides," He adjusts the laptop on his knees, crossing his legs. Shizuo notes the apparent ease of flexibility with some relief. "I admit it, it would have felt good. You know. Winning. Killing you. You are the only person I've never been able to beat, and you were always getting in the way. Of course I wanted you gone once and for all. And you can't say you felt differently."

"You made my life hell for no reason."

"Well, I'm paying for it now, aren't I?" He says this lightly, but there's a slight edge to his tone. He's still talking into the laptop, but hasn't resumed typing. "And you may remember that it was you who started this in the first place. You went for me in school before I even said a word to you."

"You were smirking at me," he growls, remembering. "My temper was worse back then. I started a lot of fights for a lot of stupid reasons. You gonna hold it against me for the rest of my life?"

"No." He pauses, considering. "I liked the look on your face when you realised I could fight back." He smiles to himself. "It was funny. It was exciting. So I kept pushing you. And you can't say you never got anything out of it either. But, I guess it got out of hand."

"No shit." He looks at the TV without watching it, takes another drink. It's pretty strong. He's a mellow drunk however, so he's not too concerned about it. "So what about now?"

"Oh, don't worry, I'm getting the cast off and I'm out of here in a few weeks, so you can relax when you come over."

Shizuo looks over at him.

Izaya avoids his eyes, shrugs. "It just seems so petty now." His voice is flat. "All of it." He sees Shizuo looking at him and rolls his eyes, slams the laptop shut. "Are we drinking or what?"

"You're the one taking your time," Shizuo points out.

"I haven't drank for two years."

"Just smoked?"

"Yeah." He gives a humourless little laugh. Then he frowns. "No. that was just when I got back."

Shizuo tops up his own glass. "Shinra won't mind?" He gestures to the bottle. They've already had quite a bit more than he'd realised.

"No. I'll pay him back."

Shizuo nods. He watches Izaya's coordination loosen as he drinks. "When's Celty home?"

"Oh, she can be pretty nocturnal." Izaya shrugs. He looks at the TV and changes channel like he's looking for something. "Something terrible should be starting soon."

Shizuo looks at the clock. He's startled by what it says.

"Where the hell's Shinra?"

Izaya shrugs. "Call him." Izaya throws him his phone.

Shinra doesn't pick up.

Shizuo sits there feeling drunk and vaguely cheated.

Izaya glances over at him. He pushes the bottle towards him with his toes.

"We might as well finish what's left."

* * *

"What about now?" Shizuo asks again, when Izaya looks tipsy enough to answer. They're halfway through some B-rated movie, and Shizuo hasn't heard from either Shinra or Celty. He wants to get it out of Izaya but they get back. "What happened to you?"

Izaya drains the rest of his glass. He is a little further gone than Shizuo.

"I wasn't thinking straight when I left. Someone approached me, someone I knew through business, who could use me. I'm not blind, Shizu-chan, I know people don't like me. So when someone- " He shakes his head, tries again. "When you're in that situation and someone is kind to you, when you're on too many painkillers and you're still in pain…" he trails off, shrugs. "You fall for it. You get stupid."

Shizuo absorbs the implications of this, trying to make sense of it. It's nowhere near the possibilties he'd thought of.

"I'm glad you're not disabled," he hears himself mumbling, aided by his drink. "Or dead."

Izaya groans. "Don't. Don't let this get weird."

Shizuo pays no attention to him.

"I felt so bad. I mean, I'm 27 now and it's still the same shit. I'm still losing my temper and wrecking things. And, I know it's stupid and I don't know why but it was like, fuck, it was like I _missed_ you when you went away." He tips his head back, remembering.

Izaya is smiling at him. It's alcohol fuelled, but it's better than a smirk.

"Don't look so embarrassed." He leans forward and tops up Shizuo's glass. "I had a crush on you at school."

Shizuo stares at him.

Izaya laughs at his face.

"Shinra never let me hear the end of it."

"You're lying," Shizuo says, but Izaya is laughing too hard to hear him. He raises his voice. "Why were you so fucking vile to me then?"

"Because," he says, like it's an answer. He stretches and arches his back, and Shizuo finds his eyes falling down where Izaya's shirt rises. He sees it and grins. "Are you checking me out, Shizu-chan?"

"No," he snaps, looking away.

"Relax, I'm just winding you up. Everything's weird and fucked up enough as it is." Izaya is still laughing at him. He is tipsy, swaying slightly, but otherwise he looks himself again.

He freezes when Shizuo kisses him. He goes with it for a moment as if by instinct, but then he puts his hands on Shizuo's shoulders, leans back.

"Hey," he says in a heavy voice. "I just got out of a rough relationship. I don't know if I'm, you know, there yet."

"Oh." Shizuo lets go of him like he's been burnt. "Sorry."

"Forget it." Izaya gets up, picks the bottle and turns off the TV. "You sleeping here?"

"Huh? Oh, I couldn't." His face is still flaming. He wants to get out of here.

"Up to you. You're pretty wasted, and it's Saturday tomorrow." Izaya yawns. "Sleep in my room, if you want. I don't care."

Shizuo stares at the clock, trying to figure out how that had happened. "I better not. I…"

Izaya rolls his eyes. "We're _drunk,_ Shizuo, it's all good. Come on."

He disappears into the bedroom without waiting for an answer.

When Shizuo follows him through, still half blind with drink and embarrassment, Izaya's throwing off his shirt and jeans as if nothing has happened. Shizuo has to swallow at the sight of his body.

"You can get in," Izaya calls sleepily, when he gets under the covers. "M' wearing underwear." He mumbles something else and falls asleep midsentence.

Shizuo looks at him for a moment. Then he swears and lets himself pass out beside him.


	5. Chapter 5

Shizuo wakes too hot in the night, dry mouthed and out of it. His hand rests between someone else's thighs. His erection is back.

He jerks upright as he realises. "Fuck."

"Huh?" Izaya lifts his head somewhere below him.

"My fucking head," Shizuo groans, cradling it. "What time is it?"

Izaya grumbles something under the covers. Unlike Shizuo, he does not seem particularly distressed.

"What am I going to tell Shinra and Celty?"

"Tha' we go'wasted n' slept."

Shizuo sits there swearing in whispers and cradling his head. What the fuck is he doing here?

Izaya sighs like he's the biggest nuisance in the world and sits up.

"You know what helps that, don't you?"

He leans over Shizuo, forcing him back down, trapping Shizuo between Izaya's body and his good arm, while his other fumbles for the bottle. He gets it open with lousy coordination and, still leaning over him, holds it to Shizuo's mouth.

"Drink!"

It occurs to Shizuo that Izaya is still quite drunk.

He drinks.

"Does it help?" Izaya demands. He tips back the remainder without waiting for an answer.

Shizuo stares at him as he does. Zombie hazed, he finds himself lifting his hands to Izaya's sides.

Izaya looks down at him. He lowers the bottle back on the bedside with a thunk. Then his arm dips and he lets himself on Shizuo's mouth, and just like that Shizuo is kissing his worst enemy, only this time Izaya doesn't stop him.

* * *

In the morning, Celty and Shinra accept their story readily enough. Shizuo supposes the truth is too crazy to believe even if they insisted on it.

They had been quiet enough, careful, even, because of Izaya's arm and Shizuo's leg. It had been intense but not rough. He remembers there had been a lot of kissing, which isn't like him, perhaps because they were drunk and it was lazy and easy. A lot of fumbling. Heat and urgency, but not volume.

"F'they hear anything" Izaya had mumbled. "They'll just think I'm masturbating," and Shizuo had had to close his eyes at the thought of Izaya masturbating.

It felt like fighting again, in a good way. Nostalgic, familiar. A better kind of release.

Izaya meets Shizuo's eye now, when they are smoking out of earshot, with his old telepathy.

"I know," he says, with not a hint of mockery. "Weird, wasn't it?"

* * *

Shizuo wants to go back. He hates himself for it, but he wants an excuse. Shinra will know if he fakes an injury and, well, he can't afford his real ones, let alone a made up one. He could just go to hang out, couldn't he? Celty is his friend. Except they normally hung out in the street and she is hardly ever home.

It's not like he could tell the truth. He drops Izaya into his conversations with Celty as casually as he can, but she never gives away much. She doesn't seem to mind having him around, so he's presumeably less insufferable. Maybe even apologised.

Shizuo eventually drops round with the excuse off leaving Celty a book they'd vaguely talked about. Shinra gives him a bit of a look, but doesn't say anything, for once. They have tea and talk. He's itching for a cigarette, but manages to hold off until Shinra gets a phone call.

Shinra sees where he's going and shakes his head, but Shizuo mumbles something in protest and ducks out. They'd had sex. It's not like things could be any worse.

He sees there is something off with Izaya right away. More than the other times.

He appears to be chain-smoking, for one thing, actually inhaling the smoke, not just holding them for show. His eyes are red when they meet Shizuo's. They look spaced out, yet on edge.

"Hey," Shizuo greets, and just like that it's awkward.

"Hey."

Izaya goes back to staring out, narrow-eyed. He doesn't attempt conversation. He's smoking like his life depends on it.

Shizuo feels a bizarre urge to ask if he's all right. Instead he asks,

"How long are you here for, anyway?"

"Tomorrow. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Ikebukuro, or- ?"

"No."

There's an edge to his tone. Sex with him had clearly not been some kind of truce.

Shizuo huffs into his own smokes. "All right. Just asking."

Izaya smokes down the rest of his cigarette. He reaches for another one, looks stunned to find the pack empty.

"Want one of mine?"

Izaya jerks his head up at the proffered cigarettes. He stares for a moment and crumples his own pack in his fist.

"No."

He gets up and goes inside. Shizuo hears his door shut, not slammed, but hard enough to suggest he's not coming back.

Shinra comes out after a moment and smiles at him. He says nothing, but Shizuo wonders how much he knows.

"What's with him, somebody die?" Shizuo jerks his head in Izaya's direction.

Shinra fidgets a moment.

"Somebody died," he admits.


	6. Chapter 6

Izaya takes the fifth place he views after barely looking at it. He can't be bothered with apartment hunting, can't be bothered with anything.

He could of course call good old Namie and have her handle everything, make the process much smoother, but he needs a little more time to himself.

He's not hurt by Shiki's sudden death, he's _not_. He's not that fucked up. Hell, he's happy. He can relax now; even Shiki's goons will be useless without him, and they won't come near Ikebukuro.

With considerable sleuthing, he finds that one of Shiki's business partners is living in his old place. His perfect apartment with its high windows and its bookcases and pristine furniture. He'd probably moved in the minute Izaya took up with Shiki. Probably destroyed everything he found out of spite. Pity.

He's not quite sure what to do with himself. Most of his old involvements had been for pleasure more than profit. He can support himself well enough, withholding information here and there, working just five hours a day. Sometimes not even that. He spends the rest of his time in bed.

He doesn't consider himself depressed, although he knows Shinra is suspicious. He considers himself safe and therefore the happiest he's ever been. It seems inconceivable that he'd had any kind of existence before Kanto, before Shiki. He ignores it as best he can.

Shinra calls, now and then.

He never asks, but Izaya can tell he's expecting him to turn up in a skip somewhere, or maybe dead by his own hand. And Izaya can't reassure him because that is of course the reality, and there's nothing he can do about it.

Masaomi, of all people, also calls.

"Heard you're back," he says, with no preamble. He sounds older, less sullen. "Want me to fill you in?"

"No thanks," he says. He doesn't ask how Masaomi got his number. He doesn't really care. He's back in people's circuits, back on the radar, if less of an antagonist. Masaomi is still there, like he's waiting for more. "I'm quite busy with other things."

"Oh." Masaomi sounds a little put out. He struggles to mask it. "Where've you been, anyway?"

"Not been missing me, have me, Masaomi?" Izaya chides. He slides back on his pillows. "And here I was under the impression you hated me."

"Yeah, well, better the devil you know, right?"

"But you've had two years to get to know others."

"Yeah, and it turns out you're not the worst person in the world."

Izaya lets out a laugh. "Tell me about it."

There's a little silence. Izaya notes that Masaomi has become more perceptive. He'll have to watch that.

"Just contact me if you ever need anything," he tells Masaomi, with no forethought. He doesn't know why he says it. He hangs up without waiting for a reply.

* * *

He gets even more on edge when Namie rings. He'll have to up his game, if news is spreading this fast. If he can bring himself to go out.

"Welcome back, brat," Namie says with her usual candour. It makes him smile. "Need an office slave again?"

"Heh, not as yet, thanks. I've missed you too."

"Whatever. Call me if you do. I was getting used to you."

* * *

He tells himself that this is fine. Living the way he does. Sometimes it gets a little unbearable. Sometimes he panics for no reason. But it always goes away.

He maintains steady relationships with Shinra and Celty, surprisingly. He finds himself thinking about people, vaguely, from time to time, and he knows they're talking about him – Izaya _'s_ helping _people now?_ – but he can't relax outside of his apartment. He thinks of Shizuo, vaguely, like the whole night had been a dream he'd once had, and hopes he doesn't run into him, when he does eventually venture out more. He can't bear the thought of someone touching him ever again.

As if this isn't enough, he gets a package. Signed for. He's on edge from the moment the door goes; no-one comes to see him, and he's not expecting anything.

He holds his breath opening it, thinking the worst, thinking of Godfather style warnings, trying to remember the last time he checked on his sisters, only to deflate when he finds what appears to be a box of junk.

Mystified, he opens the attached letter.

 _Dear Mr Orihara,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. You don't know me, but I am the mother of Shiki. His Father and I have had nothing to do with him due to his abhorrent choices in life, but we understand from a friend that you were his closest companion. We took the liberty of sending you what we could salvage of his possessions, which is mostly childhood memorabilia. Do with it what you will._

 _Regards,_

The signature is ineligible.

Izaya reads the letter again. His hands shake. _His closest companion_. Really, he should laugh. He should really, really laugh.

He can't.

He sucks in all the air he can get. Goes through the box.

School reports. Old records. Books. A teddy bear. Izaya's switchblades. Ties. A few gold lighters. A watch. Some expensive ornaments, school trophies, even a half finished bottle of his fucking cologne.

The records smash against the wall. Once he starts he can't stop and he hurls everything, tears everything apart, uses his teeth when he has to. He destroys everything he can.

His arms hurt. He's cut his hands somehow. He's breathing hard. He is so furious he can barely see straight.

He eyes what is left in the box and forces himself calm, pockets it. It's time he went out.


	7. Chapter 7

He's drifting around town doing nothing in particular, but he keeps to the parks, the outskirts, were things happen. He's not completely out of it. He finds Shiki's business partner almost by accident.

It's the stuff of bad mangas, too good to be true. He can't believe his luck. The fool appears to be confronting not only Celty, but Celty and Shizuo. How delightful, how win-win. He's leaning against a tree, as blasé as possible, and even from this distance, Izaya can feel Shizuo getting mad. He takes a seat somewhere out of sight to watch.

"I know what you are," the man is saying to Celty, and Izaya almost gives himself away laughing. These people don't know Ikebukuro _at all_. "Don't think you can't be taken care of just like the rest of the vermin in this city."

"That's cute," Izaya remarks. He can't help himself.

The man snaps his head around. They all stare at him like he's the living dead. Which, he supposes, he is.

"Izaya," he nods, already turning back. "Stay out of this. You're not what you used to be."

He yelps in shock as a blade knifes through his trouser blade, pinning him to the trunk, just grazing his skin.

"You're right," Izaya says thoughtfully. He turns another knife in his hand, another Shiki had taken off him. He is still sitting down. He had thrown the knife in near dark. "Never missed before." He shrugs and takes aim again.

Shizuo and Celty are still staring, frozen in place, as if unsure whether to intervene.

"Izaya," the man says again, struggling to keep his tone even. He tries to pull the blade free, and of course he can't. "Calm down."

"I am calm." He sounds almost bored. "What do you think I am, Shizuo Heiwajima?"

He smirks at Shizuo as he says it, but before Shizuo can react, he throws another blade, between the man's legs this time, burying in the tree inches from his crotch.

"And I hadn't finished," he adds lazily. He takes out his spare knife and twirls it. "I want my apartment back. And I want everything that was in it replaced or paid for, within 24 hours."

"Izaya-" The man looks for one fool moment like he will argue, then apparently thinks better of it.

Izaya's smile turns sweet, patronising. "I don't think you quite understand the situation," he says. "Shiki is dead. Your rats are scattering. And more to the point, this is _Ikebukuro_. We have zombies. We have a Dullahan. We have Shizuo Heiwajima. You may not know all this, of course, as my sources tell me you barely spend any time here. But I do. This is my city. And I would advise you not to mess with me here."

He takes aim again.

"OK!" The man blurts. "Jesus."

Izaya's arm falls like he's disappointed. "You're so boring," he complains. He takes a set of car keys out of his pocket, jangles them so the man can see. "Where's Shiki keep the Jag?"

The man stares for a moment, as if not wanting to admit defeat. Izaya hears him swallow.

"It's in the city lot under the MSC offices."

"Thank you." He bows mockingly. He puts the blade away. "And while I'm at it, stop bothering Celty. And, I suppose, anyone she cares about. Celty is the one without the head. She has a name."

He jumps off the wall he's been perched on. His eyes roll over Celty and Shizuo.

"Sorry to steal your thunder," he drawls. "I'll be on my way now."

He thinks Shizuo calls after him, but he may have imagined it. He brushes it off. He's not done.

* * *

Shiki's Ikebukuro offices are deserted, out in the middle of nowhere. Izaya could do more damage back in Kanto, but the properties there are more likely to have people in them, and he's not here for homicide. He's not even here for revenge, not really, because Shiki is dead and none of it matters now.

He bricks a window to get in. So amateur, so unnecessary, but he can't be bothered with finesse. He shakes the glass off his clothing and gets the alarm off within a minute.

He turns on the lights. Breaks into drawers, tossing files and other junk to the floor as he goes. He's not looking for anything in particular. He finds money at one point, unable to tell if its counterfeit or not, and that goes too, scatters like confetti, lands like chicken feed. He turns over cabinets. Bookcases. He hums as he goes. He's almost enjoying himself. He finds a bottle of whiskey at one point and empties it over the floor. That will make things easier.

He takes out Shiki's lighter. He sets the blinds alight first. The edge of a random folder, holding it up as if for dramatic effect, before letting it fall to the litter of Shiki's life.

He leaves the place burning and backs the car out. He's still not done.

* * *

Jags give such a satisfying, sexy roar when pushed. They're touger than they look. But this one will not be kept in mint condition like all Shiki's others.

The gates to Shiki's manor fling open against the bonnet, hardly slowing him. Izaya has never been here, but he knows it. He knows everything about Shiki-san. His staff don't live in, he hardly uses the place, and there are no other houses for miles. Izaya doesn't want to think about what Shiki does here.

He pedals the gas harder as the house comes into his headlights. Perhaps this would, and should, kill him.

The airbag punches him with more violence than the crash itself. He comes to with the car roof and metal crumpled above him, bricks around him. He hears a groaning, pained-animal noise, realises it is coming from himself. He tastes blood in his mouth. He waits for it to pass, struggles out. The car is buried half way in Shiki's living room.

He climbs out the window, his muscles screaming against it, and pushes through the debris to get in the house.

No electricity. He tuts with annoyance. But at least it confirms nobody's here. He takes out Shiki's lighter. He's dripping blood and debris all over Shiki's fluffy white rug. Sorry, Shiki. He inspects what he can with his makeshift torch, and really, it is so beautiful, it is more a catalogue than a home. Plasma television, leather couches, venetian mirrors. Izaya had liked that Shiki had been similar to himself, but now he loathes it, loathes them both equally.

Is this how it feels to be Shizuo, he wonders? This murderous, uncontrollable rage? It's not even an emotion, it's like a dark, dark sickness. He could almost feel bad for antagonising Shizuo so much. He doesn't want to think about it.

He sets alight what he can and attempts to back the car out. It's as much of a mess as he is, but it manages it.

It makes it all the way back to Ikebukuro, in the outskirts. He leaves it burning in a safe place.

Déjà vu hits him as he limps along, the very spot where he tried to destroy Shizuo, and Shizuo very nearly destroyed him. So appropriate. He leaves a little breadcrumb trail of blood behind him, should anyone care enough to follow. He smiles and it hurts his jaw. At least he still has his sense of humour.

He hauls himself up on the edge of the building. It is spectacular. It is perfect. His fires in the distance, the sirens only just catching up with them. This of all things should make him happy.

He looks down.

He, Shiki, all of them, are just fleas, like Shizuo always said, with no purpose on this Earth.

He takes out the lighter, finds it useless, out of fluid. He tuts and lets it drop. Watches it fall. It is a long way down.

"Izaya."

He jumps, catches the wall for balance, jerking his head around.

"Go away, protozoan!"

He realises, in a distant kind of way, that he has taken out his knife, had no idea when.

"Izaya, get down." He is not even yelling.

Izaya doesn't move. "What the fuck is this? Was I that good in bed? Leave me alone."

"Izaya." Shizuo inches forward, hard eyed. "You have to listen to me. I know how this feels. I know how it feels to be so mad you can't think straight, that you'll do anything. But trust me, you'll regret this. You have to get down."

He extends his hand. He's almost close enough to touch. Izaya lets him. It feels like it's happening to somebody else.

Shizuo closes the last few inches between them, and his hand closes around Izaya's wrist, his knife wrist. It's black with blood and fire. He gives a tug, and Izaya steps down. He keeps hold of Izaya once they're level. In his grip, on steady ground, Izaya realises he is shaking, light-headed. Somewhere beneath them, the sirens get louder.

"We have to go."


	8. Chapter 8

He flinches awake in a strange bed, groans at the resulting pain. He's stiff, bandaged, painkiller-ed, and it _hurts_.

"Hey." Shizuo stirs next to him. His arm tenses over Izaya's waist, but he doesn't take it away. "Relax," he says, as Izaya struggles to sit up. "Shinra said to take it easy, remember?"

"Yeah." His voice sounds odd, like it's full of dirt. He finds a glass of water on the bedside table and leans over for it. His arms are on fire.

Shizuo is shirtless beneath him, rumpled and as worn looking as Izaya feels, watching Izaya like he might strike, though he's in no condition to do so.

Izaya closes his eyes. "Hurts."

"Yeah, you're experiencing your first rage hangover," Shizuo informs him. "Welcome to my world."

"I was thinking that last night," he mumbles. "Is this what it's like to be Shizuo Heijawama? It's exhausting."

Something catches in his throat and forces him to cough.

"What's with your throat? Been yelling?"

"Breathed in a lot of smoke." It's easier to talk in whispers, so he does that. "I think I'll actually be arrested for this one, you know. I left blood everywhere."

"I doubt it," Shizuo says. "If your kind of people were involved. You know what Ikebukuro's like."

 _His kind of people._

"You're lucky no-one was hurt," Shizuo continues.

"I know no-one was," he huffs, wincing when it hurts his ribs. "No-one was meant to."

Shizuo considers this.

"So what happened?" he asks eventually.

Izaya looks away. "I just got so mad," he murmurs. "Something made me almost miss him, and that made me realise how far gone I was. Everything that happened I let happen to myself. It wasn't like he had me chained up in the garden shed. I could have left any time."

He opens his eyes. Goes cold at the look on Shizuo's face.

"How much do you know?"

"Huh? I don't know anything."

"What did Shinra tell you?"

"Nothing. I didn't ask."

"Oh." Izaya sees by the look on his face that he's telling the truth. He drops his eyes again. Shit. Like things could have got any worse. "I have to go."

"Hey, it's OK. Don't run off."

Izaya pulls away from his hand. "There's a very small but possible chance that someone will want to avenge my little rampage."

"This is the last place anyone would think of looking for you."

Izaya pauses to consider this. It is a very good point.

"Lie down," Shizuo tells him, weary now. "Just – lie down, will you?"

Izaya eyes him. "You didn't know anything and you still helped me? Why? It wouldn't have been murder if you let me jump."

"I told you. I know how it feels. When you're that mad…" he shakes his head.

"But how did you even know I'd go there?"

"Just a hunch."

Izaya thinks about this. He doesn't lie down. "I still don't get it," he says. "So we got drunk and fucked once. Why- "

"I don't fucking know," Shizuo snaps. "Maybe because as soon as you leave you'll disappear again, and what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? You almost killed yourself."

"I did not," he snaps back. "I was just…looking."

"You were really fucking close, Izaya," he says. "You know you were."

Izaya says nothing. What can he say? Shizuo's right. It's crept up on him before, and surely will again as soon as he goes home and see's bits of Shiki's life littering his apartment.

Shizuo sighs. "I was thinking about you a lot." He practically mutters it, but Izaya hears him. "You remember all that stuff I said when we were pissed, right? I've been thinking about how if things had been different- "

"It's not your fault." Just saying it wearies him. But he has to. "I wouldn't have talked to me, either."

Shizuo takes a moment to absorb this. "Can't be easy being you, either. Whatever's going on."

"I'm fucked up," he agrees, without humour, and it's the most honest he's ever been with anyone. He's had all these things taking up space in his head for so long, and he wants them gone. "I don't want to let anyone near me for a long time. I can't- "

"I know," he says. "You said, you're not there yet. It's fine. Just stay here. We don't have to do anything."

His arms hurt. He lets himself back down at Shizuo's side.

"On the bright side," Izaya's tone lifts. "I can't call you a monster anymore, after the couple of years I've had."

"You won't call me anything if you know what's good for you."

Izaya laughs, winces when it hurts his chest. "Shizu-chan," he croaks.

"I thought you'd left again." Shizuo tells him. "I never see you."

"I never go out," he says. "And I won't now. Whole damn town will look at me and know."

Shizuo shakes his head. "After last night, everyone's scared to death of you. And they think it was all because of me."

"Really?" Izaya's face breaks out into a grin.

"Don't fucking smile, flea, it's not funny."

"It's not funny, it's perfect! People are afraid of me again!"

Shizuoshakes his head and sits up, not bothering to argue. "I was gonna order some junk food. Want some?"

"Urgh, junk food." Izaya wrinkles his nose.

But he scans the menu when it's offered to him, selects the least offending item. He is suddenly starving.

"It'll do you good," Shizuo tells him. "You need the calories."

"I look that bad, huh."

"Nah. But you were too skinny in the first place."

They watch some dumb movie when their food arrives. They don't cuddle, and they don't talk. The situation is bizarre enough. Shizuo watches. Izaya stares at the screen and thinks.

He asks to borrow Shizuo's laptop, sends an email to both Masaomi and Namie telling them they're hired. He has some unusual energy and he wants to ride the feeling for as long as he can.

He has Namie arrange for his old things –they hadn't been destroyed, amazingly, and it gives him a childlike burst of joy to know all his books are safe and waiting for him – to be checked over, but not unpacked or rearranged. He wants to do that himself. Masaomi can help if his arms can't take it.

He does it all in silence, save for his injury-impaired typing, but Shizuo sees something on his face.

"Hey," he says. "It's great you're coming back to yourself and all, but can you not…"

"I won't," Izaya murmurs, not taking his eyes from the screen. "I'm limiting my activities now, don't worry."

"Good." Shizuo offers him something fried and disgusting. It tastes good enough to make him groan. Perhaps he really did need calories. "I'm surprised you haven't been back to Russia Sushi yet. Simon will be hurt."

"The whole world hangs out there. And I have to take my sisters out somewhere before I can do anything fun. They're probably planning to track me down and ambush me right now."

"Cute."

Izaya glares at him. "It's not cute, it's a strategic necessity."

"Sure."

Shinra calls, asks to speak to him. Izaya takes the phone away from the movie and they talk properly for the first time in months, for over an hour.

"Good to know you've woken up," he says, oddly cheerful considering what's happened. The again, it's Shinra. "Only you would do it in the most violent way possible. Speaking of violence, are you still with Shizuo?"

"Yes," he growls.

"Ah," the doctor says, in an infuriatingly smug tone. He doesn't say anything else.


End file.
